You Are Deep in The Stars

The phone was still buzzing and vibrating, and it seemed to have no intention of stopping. Bai Xi had no choice but to confess honestly, “We exchanged business cards in the cinema before.”

At that time, Mr. Han had happened to go to the bathroom, so Mark Li took advantage of the opportunity and quickly stuffed a crumpled business card over. It could be seen that he had been holding it nervously for a long time. There was a bit of anxiety and expectation in his eyes, and he looked toward the people around him. It happened to match with the moment the heroine on the screen was screaming miserably, “Ah… how about… leaving… a… mobile… number… ah…”

Bai Xi had goosebumps all over his body, “Did you choose this time on purpose?”

Mark Li quickly shook his head and said it was rare to have a confidant in life. Brother, there was absolutely no other intention; he was just a little afraid of his bodyguard.

“He is a very nice person,” Bai Xi said as he opened his business card holder. “Well, my surname is Bai.”

As if Mark Li had found a treasure, he quickly stuffed the business card into his pocket.

“We occasionally discussed movies together,” Bai Xi curled up on the sofa and said dully. “But I don’t want to talk now.”

“I really admire your circle of friends.” Han Zhuo pressed the hands-free button.

Director Mark Li immediately recited with emotion, “The ghosts are running back to the funeral palace one by one, and the ghosts with violent death will always hold grudges. There are clusters of their bones in the water beside the road, they are afraid that the sun will reveal their ugly descriptions!”

Mr. Han’s face turned pale: “Wrong call.”

Mark Li: “…”

Mark Li carefully probed: “Hello?”

“It’s me.” Bai Xi came over. “I’m sorry, I’m very tired today.”

“It’s okay, that was Mr. Han just now, right?” Mark Li asked with concern. “Your voice sounds tired, are you sick?”

“No, I’m on a business trip,” Bai Xi said, leaning on Han Zhuo. “What’s the matter?”

“I want to invite you to a masquerade ball.” When the topic was mentioned, Mark Li suddenly became very interested. He said, “The theme is Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You will definitely like it.”

“But I’ve been very busy recently, and I’m also sick,” Bai Xi’s nose was a little blocked. “I’m sorry, please invite someone else.”

“But the ball is next month.” Mark Li didn’t want to give up. “I have prepared a gorgeous palace dress for you.”

Bai Xi: “…”

“I’m sorry, Director Li.” Han Zhuo moved the phone away from Bai Xi’s ear. “I—”

“My surname is Ma,” the other party promptly corrected him.

Mr. Han paused and then said, “Director Ma, Mr. Bai is really, really busy, so I suggest you find a beautiful female companion to attend this masquerade.”

‘But I don’t need a female companion’, Mark Li thought to himself. However, facing the cold-hearted bodyguard, he still gave in and said with a good attitude, “Then please take a good rest, Mr. Bai. I’ll call back in two days. Goodbye.”

Han Zhuo returned the phone, “You are prohibited from answering such harassing calls in the future.”

“He’s actually quite talented,” Bai Xi said. “Every time I talk to him on the phone, I gain something new, so it’s not a complete waste of time.”

“New information?” Han Zhuo pinched his chin. “What are you talking about?”

“Everything. I was talking about A Midsummer Night’s Dream recently, so he invited me to the party,” Bai Xi said, then asked, “Do you like Shakespeare?”

Mr. Han thought about it and said vaguely “Does Teacher Steve like it?” If it doesn’t like it either, then at least he was not a loser.

Bai Xi finally laughed.

“Don’t think about other things for now.” Han Zhuo patted him. “The underground warehouse just wants to threaten Zhou Yong, so they shouldn’t hurt Mrs. Zhou or Zhou Jing.”

Bai Xi nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m a little sleepy.”

Han Zhuo carried him into the bathroom.

After soaking in the slightly hot bathtub, Bai Xi’s tense nerves finally relaxed. He closed his eyes, trying to distance himself from the chaotic thoughts. In the bedroom, Han Zhuo was helping him prepare the clothes he would wear tomorrow, but his cell phone showed an incoming call—a familiar number.

“Do you know what I’m going to say?” Shi Tian was very straightforward.

Han Zhuo stood by the window; his tone cold, “I don’t know.”

Shi Tian sighed slightly, “I have always wanted you to come back, and I have repeatedly emphasized that the underground warehouse will not go against you. I can even tolerate you repeatedly interfering with the pursuer’s actions, but this does not mean that you can be unscrupulous and cross the line.”

“So?” Han Zhuo asked.

“So, this is just a small warning,” Shi Tian put down the wine glass in his hand. “Of course, you can continue to mess around, but from now on, you must pay the price for every action you take.”

As he said this, the screen in front of him simultaneously projected an image of a laboratory. Zhou Jing had her eyes closed and was laying quietly on the experimental table. Her limbs looked extremely slender—definitely not the proportions an ordinary person should have.

“What are you going to do to her?” Han Zhuo asked.

“I didn’t plan to do anything initially. She actually doesn’t have much research value,” Shi Tian smiled, his tone sounding almost apologetic. “But now, everything depends on your performance.”

Regarding the specific form of the so-called “performance,” Shi Tian continued, “At three o’clock on Saturday afternoon, come to my usual spot, and I’ll take a tube of blood. I’ll let this poor girl go and promise never to harass Zhou Yong’s family again. How about that?”

Han Zhuo’s grip on the phone tightened slightly, but he said nothing. Outside the window, neon lights flashed, and the noisy singing and dancing from the Miami Hotel filled the air. Steaming fried skewers and barbecues were just coming off the street stalls. Beer bottles rolled on the ground, accompanied by the laughter of the little gangsters. Everything seemed so worldly and noisy, in stark contrast to the cold and silent laboratory in the distance.

Shi Tian was very patient. He closed his eyes comfortably, listening to the passage of time through the deathly silence on the phone, until the person on the other side finally said, “Okay.”

When Han Zhuo hung up the phone, Bai Xi happened to come out of the bathroom. Wrapped in a nightgown, he said apologetically, “I’m sorry, I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay.” Han Zhuo closed the window to block out the cold wind. “Would you like some milk?”

“I’ve already brushed my teeth,” Bai Xi replied, coming closer and placing his warm hands-on Han Zhuo’s cheeks. “Why are you standing here in the cold? Who called just now?”

Han Zhuo hesitated for a moment but chose to tell him the truth, “It was Shi Tian. Zhou Jing is in his hands. Nothing will happen to her for now.”

“For now?” Bai Xi asked, concerned. “What about later? What did he ask for?”

“On Saturday, he wants a tube of my blood in exchange for Zhou Jing,” Han Zhuo replied. “He needs some follow-up data for the experiments he did on me.”

“No.” Bai Xi was shocked and held his hand firmly. “I won’t agree to that.”

Han Zhuo felt a bit guilty. “I’m sorry for worrying you again.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bai Xi said, pressing his frown gently. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Han Zhuo nodded. He wanted to look more relaxed but couldn’t fully hide the exhaustion in his eyes. Even the invincible Ultraman had moments of despair and needed help and comfort—even if it was just a warm hug.

Bai Xi then asked, “Do you want me to help you take a bath?”

Han Zhuo said, “Okay.”

Bai Xi, “…”

Bai Xi coughed awkwardly. “Ahem.”

Mr. Han wasn’t afraid of the cold and didn’t wear too many clothes during winter. Bai Xi threw his shirt into the laundry basket, glanced briefly at his well-built muscles, and fumbled with the belt buckle.

“Okay,” he said.

Han Zhuo looked puzzled. “Are we taking a shower in our underwear?”

“Yes,” Bai Xi replied without missing a beat. “You may not know this since you’re new here, but we civilized people always shower like this.” As he spoke, he turned the showerhead to the maximum, using the hot spray to force Han Zhuo to close his misty, seductive peach-blossom eyes.

The shower gel quickly created a fine foam, which was rinsed clean with hot water. Han Zhuo said sincerely, “Watching you wash so skilfully and without any distractions makes me feel deeply inadequate.”

“This is called professionalism,” Bai Xi retorted, shoving a bath flower into his arms. “Alright, you can handle the rest yourself.”

“The rest of what?” Mr. Han asked shamelessly, leaning in slightly.

Bai Xi reached out and patted the area.

Han Zhuo inhaled sharply.

“The size is impressive,” Bai Xi whispered teasingly into his ear. “And judging by your reaction, I don’t feel bad at all—if anything, I feel quite accomplished.”

Han Zhuo tried to grab him, but it was too late. Bai Xi dashed out of the bathroom, wrapped in wet clothes, leaving a trail of cute footprints on the carpet.

Ten minutes later, Han Zhuo followed the wet footprints back to the bedroom. Bai Xi had rolled himself into the quilt and was sleeping soundly. He occupied only a small corner, leaving most of the two-meter bed for Mr. Han, his intent to please evident but ineffective.

Faced with reality, the mischievous pervert from the bathroom became scared faster than anyone else. As soon as he sensed the imposing aura surrounding him, Bai Xi decisively rolled over and scrambled to the edge of the bed, raising his hands in surrender: “Brother Han, I was wrong.”

“What did you just call me?” Han Zhuo asked, leaning against the headboard, a smirk curling on his lips.

“Brother Han, big brother, boss, Mr. Han, Mr. Han,” Bai Xi muttered while pulling the quilt over his head, leaving only his face exposed. “Which one do you like?”

Han Zhuo responded, “I don’t like any of them.”

“You can’t be too picky as a person,” Bai Xi lectured, scooting further to the edge of the bed.

“You’re about to fall,” Han Zhuo warned. “Are you planning to squat there all night?”

“If you’re willing to share, I can squat here all night,” Bai Xi stretched out his hand, pointing to a corner of the bed. “This part is mine.”

Han Zhuo shook his head, smiling faintly. “I don’t want to.”